


shadowboxing

by Karturtle (karturtle)



Series: i got soul, but i'm not a soldier [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Number Five | The Boy Is A Good Brother, PTSD, aka being a little bastard, can be read without reading the other fics in this series, descriptions of ptsd symptoms, five notices and tries to fix it in the only way he can, klaus isn't doing so hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23225491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karturtle/pseuds/Karturtle
Summary: Klaus is a little distracted during a family meeting. The living room is oddly muggy.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: i got soul, but i'm not a soldier [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669951
Comments: 34
Kudos: 825





	shadowboxing

**Author's Note:**

> i know that you don't understand  
> 'cause you don't believe what you don't see  
> when you watch me throwing punches at the devil  
> it just looks like i'm fighting with me
> 
> [-shadowboxing, julien baker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gHJpTmPlyPw)  
> (an excellent klaus song)

“ _Klaus._ ”

His mind was a broken record that day. Not a particularly harmful one, thankfully, but images and memories kept drifting in and out of Klaus’ head, and he didn’t have the energy to fight them back.

All that mattered was that he could tell that they weren’t real and that he was at home. On his worst days he’d have full blown lapses in reality and find himself back in a humid, sticky jungle while some of his worst nightmares replayed in his mind on a loop. And that was no good for anyone.

“ _Seriously, Klaus?_ ”

No, this was fine, even if he felt like he was moving through a fog and his mind was soup. He tapped his fingers on the sofa in the living room and blinked at the distant sound of Private Andrews laughing behind him. Nope, he wasn’t buying it. The only person behind him was Five, rummaging through the bar for something to get them through this grueling family meeting.

 _“Are you guys even seeing this? I can’t just let-_ ”

Fucking Andrews. Klaus’ mind drifted to the time Andrews introduced him to the rubber snake his grandpa shipped to him from the states. The entire camp woke up to the sound of Klaus shouting and screaming about the goddamn snake in his kit. His mouth twitched in a smile at the memory.

“Klaus!”

He startled, his nails digging into the couch as his eyes focused on where he was staring. Ben was directly in his line of vision making eye contact, having been frantically waving an hand, and once he saw Klaus register his surroundings he nodded his head towards Luther with a grimace. 

“Luther!” Klaus answered easily, forcing his voice into something breezy and casual as he swung his head around to stare at his brother. He smiled, trying to be the very picture of mental health and sanity despite the fact that the room still felt oddly muggy.

“Were you listening to a single word I was saying?” Luther asked urgently, looking disappointed, “I don’t call these meetings for fun, you know.”

“Really?” Klaus asked, “I thought you loved these things. And who wouldn’t? Spending time with the fam, watching you and Diego argue for an hour? Always a treat.”

“Klaus.” Diego said disparagingly, taking One’s side for once. “We _were_ talking about something important.”

“I know, I know!” Klaus raised his hands innocently.

“Then what did Allison just say?” Diego asked, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the opposite sofa.

“..I.. couldn’t hear.” He replied, “Her voice is- y’know, hah, not always the easiest to make out these days and..” He trailed off when Allison’s face twisted up in something unreadable and she turned away. Something in his chest dropped.

Oh, fuck. There went his good brother streak for the weekend. Saying shitty things about Allison’s voice was almost as bad as bringing up Vanya’s personal apocalypse. Ben facepalmed in the corner of his vision, and so did a guy that was missing a few fingers right behind him. At least being stuck between home and the jungle made the dead a bit easier to ignore- who knows how many of them were real and how many were memories?

Actually, no, the dead were the regular amount of awful, with or without the mind-bending trauma.

At least he _definitely_ heard Vanya when she said, “Y’know, I think the meeting was pretty much over anyways.” And it wasn’t his overactive imagination giving him a vision as he watched her and Allison walk out of the room in hurt and anger.

“Great, Klaus. Just- great.” Luther sighed, and he didn’t even seem that mad anymore. Just disappointed, which was _worse_. Klaus shrunk back into the couch slightly as he left without so much as a lecture.

“A bit sensitive today, aren’t we.” Five commented, and since when was he back in his armchair? His glass was already empty, too. 

“No, I think that was just a dick move.” Diego said, standing without so much as a look in Klaus’ direction. Yikes. “I’ve gotta go meet a friend.” He moved his head from side to side, popping his neck in a way that had both Klaus and Ben grimacing, and then he nodded at Five before taking his leave.

“Sorry, bro.” Ben sighed, “I tried to get your attention.”

“Not your fault.” Klaus muttered absently. He’d have to fix this, but his mind felt like sand slipping through his fingers and Allison (and Vanya, because those two were thick as thieves and it was mildly terrifying) needed time to cool off.

A light noise caught his attention before his mind distracted itself again. Five was tapping his fingers against his empty glass, watching Klaus with a curious expression. Was it the Ben thing? Everyone was getting used to Klaus mumbling things to the dead brother they could see, so why was he staring?

“What day is it?” Five asked.

“Exqueeze me? Um- friday?” Klaus said, blinking.

“Wrong, it’s saturday. What’s the month? Year?” Five continued, leaning forward in his chair. He had a certain way of watching Klaus that made him feel like a lab rat, the creepy, lovable bastard.

“Are you going senile?” Klaus replied, his eyebrows drawing together, “Do we have to deal with that _and_ puberty? Because I think the ol’ homelessness would probably be better than living through-”

“I’m not _senile_.” His littlest brother sneered. “I’m just trying to see how lucid you are.”

“Hey now,” Klaus raised a hand and put the other on his chest, making eye contact with Ben, “I’m not taking anything! Scouts honor!”

“You were never a scout and you have the honor of a starving raccoon with rabies.” Five paused, “Or Luther when he’s hangry.”

“Okay, rude.”

“Klaus,” Ben interrupted, “I think he’s… trying to take care of you?”

“Um. What?” 

“Ben’s input?” Five asked mildly.

“He definitely thinks you’re senile.” Klaus said, causing Ben to throw his hands up in exasperation.

“You’re deflecting. And I never accused you of taking anything.” His brother replied dismissively, leaning back in his seat while still eyeing Klaus. 

Klaus blinked. That’s true, Five _didn’t_. It was as weird as it was welcome.

Their relationship was almost a breath of fresh air compared to what he had with the others. Five missed out on the worst parts of his descent into drugs. Missed the lying, the sneaking around, the stealing.. their relationship didn’t carry the baggage of Klaus’ past, and that meant that sometimes Five was the only person that could tolerate him. Like today, apparently, while he drove the rest of his family off with his carelessness.

“I know that look in your eyes.” Five said abruptly, “You’re stuck back _there_ , aren’t you.”

It also meant that Five easily saw past his bullshit. He wasn’t clouded by the hundreds of little disappointments that the rest of his siblings saw when they looked at him. Five usually didn’t _immediately_ jump to drugs as the answer for his weirdness like the others did. And today he was really on the nose.

“Where ever could you mean, _kleiner bruder_?” Klaus asked innocently.

“Vietnam, I’m guessing. Maybe.. 1965?”

Klaus paused, his mouth going dry. What? He didn’t ever actually tell Five where or when he was. Just for how long. His hurt and confusion must’ve shown on his face, because his brother nodded to himself with his usual ‘of course I’m right’ arrogance.

“I saw the Vietnamese on one of your tattoos.” Five explained mildly, “That ratty vest you never take off was easy enough to place, as well. Not to mention the dog tags and your obvious attachment. They mean something to you, they’re not just an accessory.” He paused, taking in Klaus' reaction. “And the signs of PTSD are pretty clear to anyone that knows what to look for.”

“..1968.” He said reluctantly, running his fingers up and down his arms. He didn’t like this. “What do you want, Five?” Klaus snapped. Contrary to popular belief, Klaus kept his cards close to his chest. He was used to his siblings ignoring him or brushing him off, and he didn’t like being _read_ so easily. Besides, they couldn’t just throw around words like PTSD so early in the morning, God.

His brother gave a small hum. “Close enough. Was that before or after the Tet Offensive?” Five asked curiously, and Klaus abruptly stood up. There was a mix of emotions swirling in his chest and he didn’t like it one fucking bit. Ben watched on with his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Right after. They needed all the warm bodies they could get- does it matter?” Klaus said reluctantly, bitterly, “Seriously, what do you _want_?”

“I want you to stop letting them make a fool out of you for things you can’t control.” Five replied, eyes sharp and calculating as they seemed to see right through him.

Well. Okay. That seemed to stump both Ben _and_ Klaus, judging by the gobsmacked expression his dead brother wore. 

“Uh?” He asked intelligently. Five rolled his eyes, sighing.

“Are you really this dense?” He griped, “Why not just tell them that you’re having a bad day or something so they lay off? It isn’t that complicated.”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk.” Klaus immediately shot back, digging his fingernails into his arms, “‘Just tell them you’re having a ‘bad day’. What about you, huh? You’ve never said a word to anyone about what was bothering you - and we both know I’ve tried to pester it out of you - and you have entire _weeks_ where everyone and everything is _wrong_ and you can’t look us in the eye without threatening to strangle us!”

Five’s expression darkened immediately. Looked like someone couldn’t take what they dished out. “We all have our own burdens to carry.” He said darkly, his voice a threat that Klaus easily ignored, “But we’re not talking about _me_ . We’re talking about the _war veteran_ letting his siblings treat him like shit for having a mental illness.”

“He has a point.” Ben commented. And of _course_ he sided with Five on this.

“He has PTSD too!” Klaus exclaimed, gesturing wildly at their oldest-youngest brother.

“Unproven and irrelevant.” Five snapped, the little bastard, “And I don’t let them treat me like _that_ , regardless of my mental status.”

“Because we all know you’ll smother us in our sleep if we try.” He retorted, “I don’t have the same luxury, being me and all.”

“You’re a _sky soldier_ , are you not?” Five scoffed, standing up, “You’re just as capable of smothering someone in their sleep. And I need another drink if this conversation is going to continue.”

He vanished back to the bar. Klaus threw his head back and groaned, digging his fingers in harder. “It’s not _fair_ if you get to have this conversation _drunk_ and I’m stuck being sober. How about that for my siblings treating me like crap?” He whined.

Five made an aggravated noise, but Klaus still heard the sound of bottles being picked up. “Fine.” He also heard the distinct hiss of a man who’s just downed a shot, followed by a _clank_ as the glass was slammed down onto the counter. Five reappeared in his seat a moment later, frowning at him.

“Great coping skills, there.” Klaus said, “Did you know if you do that too often you might become an alcoholic?”

“Why can nobody in this family have a normal, functional conversation?” Ben wondered, his voice wistful and longing.

“Yet again, we’re not talking about me.” Five retorted, “We’re talking about you. We’re barely a month off the first apocalypse and I don’t want to know what the walking dead will look like if the rest of our siblings don’t start taking you seriously.”

“Christ on a cracker.” Klaus swore, “I’m not going to _start an apocalypse_ just because I can barely tell whether I’m in the Academy, the cemetery, or the jungle!”

“The _cemetery?_ ” Five asked, eyes sharpening. This was a nightmare. 

“You know what,” Ben said, looking back and forth between his brothers as Klaus stiffened, “This isn’t how I wanted you to let the others in, but I’ll take it.”

“Fuck off, Ben.”

**Author's Note:**

> anyone else stuck at home trying to work on fics in these fun, horrible times?
> 
> i'm trying to get back in the swing of writing things so that i can finish the war is over, so i decided to do a drabble or two in the same universe as it. this is a few months before the events of the main fic.
> 
> let me know what you think! some feedback would be nice and might trick my brain into wanting to write more for you. it cant hurt to try. and hey, i'm on tumblr at @karturtle if you want to chat about umbrellas while we're all isolating. <3


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